


Beautiful

by Fadesintothewest



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 15:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19212448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadesintothewest/pseuds/Fadesintothewest
Summary: A silvery night of frivolty once upon a time in Tirion.





	Beautiful

 

Beautiful

 

Findekáno laughed at some joke, but he could hardly say what it was about or who shared it. His attention was elsewhere. He stole a glance here and there, across the glade. Beautiful. He felt a fire inside him, pulling him, calling him, but he could do nothing but pretend to be otherwise entertained. Frivolous times and yet Findekáno believed so exceedingly that nothing more beautiful had ever come to be. That was indeed a serious claim!

 

Across the glade many a soul hoped they were the attention of Findekáno’s furtive glances. To see him look over, his bright, blue eyes like fire. Ah, to be the subject on the other side of that passion! But Findekáno was also clever, knowing his every move was scrutinized, he allowed his gaze to linger on many. Though he wished to hide his secret desire by making obvious his study of beauty, he nevertheless enjoyed the curve of a woman’s breast, the bulge in another’s pants, the turn of the neck. He dared kiss the hands of a passing observer.

 

But there was only one that truly caught his attention. Their color was bright, eyes like the ocean, a tempest of passion. If only Findekáno were a poet he could do justice to the center of his attention, but the only word that came to mind was grey. The grey of his eyes, the grey of his trousers and the color of his shirt, lighter in tone, but in the same family of color.  He imagined the grey color slipping over the fairness of his skin. Findekáno allowed himself a moan, which became a growl, chasing after a coy maiden that walked passed him, hoping to elicit such a response.

 

Findekáno was wearing a jacket of the softest blue with silver brocade over a linen tunic. His hair was tied at his nape. The golden hue of his skin a contrast to the blue of his eyes and the blackness of his hair. It was unfair that the line of Finwë was so wickedly handsome, so deliciously beautiful.

 

Findekáno was not easily pleased, many indeed did believe. Yes, a famous lover, generous in his ability to share passion, but never settling with anyone. Better everyone believe he enjoyed his status as bachelor than reveal the true desire of his heart: dark, forbidden, and excruciatingly tempting.

 

“It’s beautiful,” he purred, turning his attention back to “some noble’s daughter” that was showcasing her latest necklace. It was beautiful, Findekáno admitted to himself, spinning her across the lawn. _It is you that is beautiful_ , Findekáno sighed, the object of his silent affection so close but so far.

 

The silver evening was decadent. Fëanorian lamps circled the perimeter of the lawn, twinkling like low lying stars. Through the length of his lashes Findekáno looked up to find that person that filled him with joy but one he could not taste. It was too easy, truly, to please Findekáno, but none of these fools knew how, understood why.

 

“None of you are worth it,” Findekáno teased as he spun his lady by a crowd of elves.

 

“But my lord, is pleasure not a worthy goal?” an elf needled, between a mouthful of grapes he popped into his mouth. It made the wine more pleasant.

 

“It is, but I am hard to please,” Findekáno shouted merrily and naughtily, releasing his dancing partner, leaving her to dance alone, and yet she delighted in that too, performing for her Prince.

 

“But you’ve given so many pleasure,” another added. Findekáno winked in return and the object of Findekáno’s attention swore that in that moment his lord was the most delectable, beautiful, and worthy object of lust. 

 

The lady danced around the light catching the sapphires on her breasts. They were an aphrodisiac. She was cast under their spell:  Blue, Findekáno’s blue, jewels that captured the color of his eyes. Earlier that night she put them on with much anticipation, hoping she would catch his attention. She was a beautiful creature. Perhaps she was a magical thing, sapphires gifted with a night of embodiment.

 

“Beautiful,” Findekáno hummed. After all, she’d gone through so much effort to catch his attention. It was the least he could do. Approaching her, he shared his theory. “See here,” he caught her hand, announcing to the crowd around him, “I believe I’ve captured an enchantment tonight.” The lady laughed and spun closer to him, allowing him to take her in the complicated steps of the dance. Findekáno twirled her around the glade that was covered with large woven rugs. Their bare feet sunk into the plush silk beneath them. “Are you faerie embodied tonight, my lady?” Findekáno flirted. The lady blushed, but Findekáno laughed and led her in a spinning frenzy. They giggled and danced, the silver light of Telperion and the twinkling of the lights and fires cast a spell upon the gathering.

 

“It’s you who are beautiful,” another said aloud to no one in particular.  The many elves gathered around this elf all laughed and blushed. “Do not tease us so, Maitimo.”

 

Another elf offered, teasing dangerously, “Don’t you know the Princes are nothing if not arrogant,”  This caught Maitimo’s attention. Beautifully he turned to the offender. But instead of reproaching him, he dipped his chin, acknowledging the speaker: “It’s the least we can do. We must always serve our people, you know.”

 

“And will you serve us this evening?” 

 

Maitimo pretended to think deeply on the matter, crossing his legs and bringing his hand up to his mouth. After a moment, he shouted, “But of course!” The elves gathered around him cheered and drank, blushing and whispering to each other. Just who would be lucky enough to gain finicky Maitimo’s favour this evening.  Maitimo sighed, it was frighteningly boring having every word he spoke fawned over. Truly, he didn’t know if he was clever or if those around him just felt compelled to caw like crows. “Crows deserve better than my scorn,” Maitimo muttered aloud.

 

Makalaurë who was sitting bored next to his brother, finally piped up. “And just what do you mean by that?”

 

Maitimo shrugged his shoulders, sharing, “ _There is a bird who, by his coat and by the hoarseness of his note, might be supposed a crow_ *”

 

Makalaurë slapped Maitimo’s leg, “But now you offend the crow once more. I thought they deserved more than your scorn.”

 

“They do,” Maitimo agreed, “and yet our poets think them the equal of these citizens.” 

 

Makalaurë’s eyes brightened. “Oh I see.” Slumping onto his back, he added loudly, accusing the crowd, “None of you deserve a crow!”

 

Maitimo laughed and the elves gathered laughed too but were confused as to why they were laughing, but laugh they did. Shrugging his shoulders again, Maitimo mouthed to his brother, “See!?”

 

Makalaurë turned to watch Findekáno dancing. “Finno has the right idea.”

 

“And what is that?” Maitimo asked, leaning back and allowing this moment to openly trail after Findekáno with hungry eyes.

 

Makalaurë stood and before leaving his brother, he answered, “I might as well join in with the rabble.” He found a pretty elf that was most delighted to have the attention of the lovely and talented Makalaurë.

 

Findekáno released his partner and walked to the edge of the glade. Below him the city of Tuna sparkled, but from the edge of his sight he could see him. Beautiful. Oh torture, Findekáno wanted to cry out, to be so close but so far from the object of his most deviant desires. Instead of crying out he chose to sing. Turning to the crowd he announced. “I shall now gift you with a song, inspired by the finery and the splendor of your company.”

 

The gathered elves cheered. Findekáno knew they were all absurd. But at least some among them were brave to always be truthful with him.

 

Makalaurë cheered his cousin. “On with it!”

 

Findekáno cleared his throat, but before he sang he reprimanded the crowd. “I desire honest appraisal but the lot of you are sycophants.”

 

“Arrogant, I tell you,” the same elf shouted who had earlier accurately described the Princes.

 

Makalaurë answered, “Arrogance and obsequiousness go hand in hand. Go on Finno!

 

The crowd whistled and cheered, soon quieting, ready for Findekáno’s impromptu song.

 

He sang:

 

“Brightest of beauties

Behold this silk, softest touch

My desire, oh put it on

It pleases me, in fact so much

 

Elegant and aloof, the swan

My fingers hesitate, oh dear a crutch

Beautiful flight, now gone

Ah my love, lost, to such

 

My soul’s desire foregone

Forbidden and far, like dawn

Oh my heart, too much!

It’s you that’s beautiful”

 

Maitimo stood up and led the cheers and appreciation of Findekáno’s song. “Beautiful indeed,” he shouted. Makalaurë whistled with approval.

 

Findekáno bowed deeply. Maitimo approached his cousin, crossing the throngs of elves that pushed their way towards Findekáno to congratulate him on his “oh so marvelous song.”

 

“Away with the lot of you,” Maitimo commanded playfully, so they thought. They listened and dropped away as Maitimo moved passed them and kissed a mouth, touched a check, and smiled, dismissing them with the frivolity they deserved.

 

Findekáno waited as the crowd went back to their spots on the lawn. “Well done,” he taunted his older cousin. More seriously, he added, “Thank you. I do not think I could tolerate another empty congratulations.” Smiling, he shared, “You save me.”

 

“Always for you Finno,” Maitimo answered earnestly. “You really are so easy to please.”

 

Findekáno laughed. “Don’t tell a soul. I’d hate for them to know.”

 

“I swear it,” Maitimo teased.

 

“In all seriousness, what did you think of my song?” Findekáno inquired, knowing Maitimo was always honest, at least.

 

“You know, just earlier I said those very words.”

 

“Which ones?” Findekáno asked, feigning ignorance.

 

Maitimo brushed his hand against Findekáno’s leg. “It’s you who are beautiful.”

 

Findekáno grinned. Moving closer to Maitimo he whispered, “So I heard.”

 

And the stars spun overhead and the world marched on as it always did. Maitimo looked down upon the lights of Tuna. “Beautiful,” he whispered his eyes catching those of Findekáno.

 

And Findekáno sang a private song, a song he made just for his lover: “Brightest of beauties. Behold this silk, softest touch.” Findekáno let his finger linger on Maitimo’s cheek.  “My desire, oh put it on. It pleases me, in fact so much.” Maitimo pulled away from Findekáno lest someone notice. Findekáno continued his song, “Elegant and aloof, the swan. My fingers hesitate, oh dear a crutch. Beautiful flight, now gone. Ah my love, lost, to such.”

 

Maitimo laughed softly. He knew they would draw too much attention if he lingered. “At the mingling of the lights,” Maitimo whispered.

 

Oh the torture Findekáno would endure, waiting so long to feel his lover in his arms, to feel the weight of Maitimo on him as he fucked him long and hard. Findekáno answered, “My soul’s desire foregone. Forbidden and far, like dawn. Oh my heart, too much! It’s you that’s beautiful.”

 

Maitimo grudgingly departed Findekáno’s side, humming his lover’s song, a song meant just for him. And none who heard it that night was the wiser. Except for the crows, nothing ever escaped their keen notice.

 

 

The End

 

)()()()()()()()(

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *From the poem The Jackdaw by William Cowper.


End file.
